Eight Days of Miracles
by Miss x Massacre
Summary: Noah doesn't like Hanukkah, but Rachel bets she can change his mind within eight nights. Rated M for a reason
1. Night One

**Title:** 8 days of miracles  
**Author:** oh little j  
**Pairing:** Puck/Rachel  
**Spoilers:** Up to "Mash-Up"  
**Summary:** Rachel shows Noah that Hanukkah doesn't have to be so bad.  
**Rated** M for dry-humping, lots of bad words, and (a few) derogatory statements.  
**Author's Note:** First thing I've written in almost a year. It's short, smutty, and kind of to the point. This was written in the span of an hour. Puckerman wouldn't leave me alone to sleep, so here it is. I'm going to do all eight days of Hanukkah. Besides, I feel bad for Puck during these festive weeks – he seems so…brooding. Not good for his badassness. I did want to upload this on the eight days of Hanukkah, but my fingers jumped the gun and decided the first would be great. No beta for this, not quite sure if I need one. Constructive criticism is welcome. (: Enjoy!  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own glee, unfortunately, though I'm quite sure if I did – Mark Salling would be too busy with me to be on camera.

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_Night 1_

Noah was not a holiday man. If there was a Jewish Ebenezer Scrooge, then he was it. Not that he hated his religion and all that the eight nights stood for. He loved a good miracle as much as the next devout Jew, but his mother -- for the love of Christ -- had to recount every devastation in the Jewish history as if he hadn't been hearing it every Hanukkah since he was freakin' born. It was enough to watch Schindler's List every three weeks, but living through World War 2 for eight whole days?

He would've rather been strapped to a chair and forced to watch musicals while Kurt exfoliated his skin – whatever the hell that meant.

This year though, when his girlfriend (not really), Rachel Berry, -- yes; the maniacal, bipolar Rachel Leah Berry from glee club -- shows up at his door (how'd she remember where he lives?) and drags him up to his room, he's half convinced Hanukkah might not be so bad…

"_So_, I know us Jews aren't welcome in the sappy Christmas scene of the mainstream Caucasian, but I had a wonderful idea on how we can spend _our _holiday." She whispered huskily into his ear as she sat him down in the rolling chair that matched the unused desk in his room.

She was dressed in a long jacket that swallowed her frame up, something from her daddy's closet no doubt, and on her feet a very provocative pair of stiletto heels. Noah had never been that attracted to a woman's feet; he was a breast man himself, but the way her foot arched and calves elongated -- he was more aroused than he had been since their last rendezvous in the changing room of Sears.

She straddles him and it's now he realizes she's lost the jacket, only dressed in a sexy bra and garter set. His mouth waters and his erection shamelessly pops a tent beneath his navy blue sweatpants. His arms encircle her waist and she grinds her damp heat against his. A groan leaves his lips and he faintly wonders why he never noticed her before. Their hips seem to fit together as if was meant to be. Thoughts fleet his mind as she begins rocking her clothed sex against his. His head falls back with his hands on his hips. This feels better than any Saturday afternoon cougar fuck. "Rach, ah." He actually _moans_ this time because she's the one doing him in this time.

Downstairs, his mother and sister can be heard playing with a dreidel and singing Hebrew songs. They're practically ingrained his mind. He could sing along in his sleep. Her tongue flicks out to caress his earlobe and he curses the good Lord above for sending him this sexy, mind (fuckin') blowing girl. He must've done something terribly good in his past life because he sure as _hell_ doesn't deserve it this life. She kisses him then, passionate and warm (like her hugs)(but don't say anything cause Puck sure as hell ain't the huggable/cuddle type...in the daylight), and when she takes his hand and presses it to her barely clothed breast -- he feels as if his prayers have been answered. He's giving it a good squeeze before his fingers are slipping into the cup, rubbing her nipple and biting at her lip. Her hips are still bucking and a warm sensation begins pooling in his stomach. He murmurs out something that closely resembled, "beautiful", but it's lost as his head is guided to her nipple which is immediately sucked into his awaiting mouth.

"A-ah," She strangles out as her head falls back. "Noah."

When her head dips down to suck the area where his neck and collarbone meet, his hips buck violently and his spills his wet seed all in the front of his pants. Rachel had already came twice and cried out for a third time, panties soaked to the max as she fell slack against his body. Noah's mind worked to process what'd just happened as he held her tightly against his body.

Who cared that he could recite his mother's story of Jewish woe and heartache since before he could do multiplication tables?

Or that his (not so much) girlfriend was some deranged escaped Von Trapp child? He got to touch the boob of said escaped Von Trapp child and it was like nothing before...

Maybe Hanukkah was **really** looking up this year.


	2. Night Two

**Title: **8 days of miracles  
**Author: **oh little j  
**Pairing: **Puck/Rachel  
**Spoilers: **Up to "Mash-Up"  
**Summary: **Rachel shows Noah that Hanukkah doesn't have to be so bad.  
**Rated** M for cock to cheek references, more derogatory statements, the shameless use of curse words, and a slightly Dominant!Rachel. Read at your own risk, please.  
**Author's Note: **Thanks for the reviews and alerts. I didn't know if I'd actually get this second chapter finished, seeing as I left my flash drive in school (LE GASP!) with the first part of this typed up. Though I should be working on two essays, I just had to write this. You readers are lucky because otherwise, this might've come at a later date. Procrastination for the win. The outline that's in my head says we're coming up on steamier territory. Can you dig? I know Rachel doesn't talk much, but it's sex -- who needs words for that? Haha. Not that I'd know. -insert weird face- I'm on some kind of hyper high right now. Reviews would be marvelous; I'd love to hear what you think about this. 3 Enjoy, (the people I hope aren't) kids!  
**Disclaimer: **I don't own glee, unfortunately, though I'm quite sure if I did – Mark Salling would be too busy with me to be on camera.

* * *

_Night 2_

Noah was could've killed himself. No, really, he could've. The only thing that held him back from the so-called edge was this thing known as a dare (though what Rachel had propositioned him with was more of a bet of sorts -- except he didn't care if he won or lost, it happened to be a win-win situation and Noah knew _never_ to kick a gift horse in the mouth.)

Tonight his mom was on her goddamned drive around the house; trying to clean, clean, clean as if it wasn't already clean enough. It was phase two of the (**not so**) blessed holiday, which was the (mom initialized) 'tradition' of cleaning the house that was started years ago just after Noah's father left. She decided on a 'clean house for a clean year'. Whatever the hell she meant by that. He knew it was just a ploy so that she could throw away his father's things without a fuss. Not that Noah would've put up much a fight had she just said that. He was pretty damn pissed at his father too.

Instead, she decided that it would be a yearly thing to clean the house out, forging Noah to stuff his closet full of his things he was to "throw away" but could never really part with. This year, he sat on the couch and read Broadway Musicals: Show by Show (Rachel's _favorite_ book that she so indiscreetly left on his bed before she left last night -- it was his duty as her…whatever to read it, he decided. After all, she put so much effort into last night) while his mother vacuumed the carpet. No sir, he was not participating in these years events. He'd recite the prayers and light the damn candles, but participating in Mom's twisted Hanukkah hogwash (Noah'd become so fond of alliteration)? There wasn't enough ways to say no. He was waiting for the day his little sister, Eva, would wake up and smell the damn _latke's_. There was only so much dusting and washing a person could do before they became fed up and screamed 'HELL NO, WE WON'T GO!' Well, in Noah's perspective anyway.

"Noah! Get up off the couch and help me!" His mother scolded him, smacking his arm. The book shut, making him lose his spot (not that he was reading it, all he could think about was the cute little number Rachel wore and how it left little to his overactive imagination).

"Ma!" He yelled, standing up and over the short yet older Jewish woman. "I'm not cleaning this year --" His phone buzzed in the pocket of his jeans then. Saved by the fucking bell. "besides, it seems that I have to meet someone…" He dropped the book on the coffee table and raced out the door before she could give him the Spanish Inquisition. He hurries to his truck and turns the engine over, the heat already on full blast. He blows into his hands before pulling out of the driveway and driving towards William McKinley High School. He rocked out to some Van Halen, Finn's tape left from freshman year, and cursed for two whole songs when he realized he forgot his coat on the pegs in the hallway.

It was even worse when he pulled up, bumper to bumper with Rachel's black Honda, and noticed she was donned head to toe in clothing. What was he doing? He could hear his mother scolding him, listing off the illnesses he could catch just by standing in the biting wind. Before he could get out of the car, she was there in the cab of his truck, with her lips on his, tongue delving into the far corners of his mouth. He moaned against her lips and adjusted the seat, but she didn't straddle him as he hoped. He duly noted this and pulled back, his eyes shining with what seemed like disappointment. He hadn't been inside her since before midterms (she was prattling on about some bullshit 'no distractions' before big tests or whatever, but he didn't see the harm in her getting him off -- it wasn't like he was going to be distracted) and it was (for the lack of better terms) killing him.

Just as he opened his lips to speak, she covered his mouth with her hand. "Shut. Up." His eyebrows raised at her demanding tone, but nodded his head. He watched as her hand left his mouth and trailed down his muscled chest, his pectorals ripping under hand, to his crotch. She palmed his erection as she consumed his lips again. He moved his hips, but she ceased his movements by a gentle squeeze. "_Relax_." She murmured and nipped at his swollen, wet lips. "I want you to enjoy this…"

All he could do was nod.

She was the exact sight of sexual predation as she unzipped the fly of his jeans and eased his length out. A few strokes and she unexpectedly took him into that talented little mouth (that up until now, he thought could only be annoyingly useful for two things: talking and singing). "Holy _fuck_, shit." His hips raised as he sucked him deep into her throat without gagging. His toes curled and he gripped the steering wheel, afraid to grab her hair too hard. (Surprisingly, over the time that this fustercluck of a relationship formed -- Noah had began to form a little thing called empathy; it scared the shit out of him, but he embraced it because it brought him good things like Rachel Berry and those short little skirts she wore) When her teeth scraped the underside of his cock, his hand slipped from the wheel to the horn. Her head jerked up and she looked around, startled from the sound. The sight of her -- lips wet with his juices and eyes lustful -- managed to get him harder than he already was. He was going to explode at any moment, he just knew it.

Without hesitation, she resumed her duties between his legs and his head fell back against the seat. Prayers were muttered as he felt himself nearing the edge. Finally his fingers found her hair, twirling and knotting in the dark locks. "Rachel, fuck." He released her hair as he started to cum, but she didn't lift her head. She kept her head a-bobbing, swallowing all he pumped out. The monthly subscriptions to Cosmopolitan and Redbook had paid for itself. Like the courteous girl she was, she tucked him back into his jeans and wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her sweater.

"Happy Hanukkah, Noah." She whispered, licking the corner of his mouth before slinking out of his car.

He wasn't sure if he was yet fond of Hanukkah, but he was pretty sure he couldn't wait for tomorrow night.


End file.
